Angolin, p.26
Angolin, page 26
“Insubordination? Nonsense! And yes, it is time for action. That’s why I called you here.”
Dharmen sat still, brows lifted.
“Interrogation information to date corroborates intel from our monitoring of Carmogen military installations. They’ve been retrofitting their fighter planes with Angolinian arms: pulse cannons, particle emitters—every type of microprojectile system found on Bemin, some with energy signatures matching those of the stolen weapons. We’re also seeing a massive troop, assault craft, and materiel buildup, and the number of energy weapons we’ve detected is much greater than what they received from over here.”
“My gods, sir!”
Gennet nodded confirmation. “They have our combat tech. Now they’ve begun reproducing it themselves—successfully or not, we can’t yet determine. But one thing’s for certain: Carmogen is mobilizing, and in far greater ways than we’ve ever seen from them.”
Two feelings battled in Dharmen’s aching body. One was afraid for Angolin. But the other wanted to finally engage the enemy after so much prancing around. “Where does this lead us, General? What’s our next step?” he asked and rose too quickly. Sharp pains checked his enthusiasm and returned him groaning to his seat.
“Careful, mister. And it’s interesting of you to ask. I’ve had several discussions with High Command lately, and your East Ranges episode, though completely reckless, has pushed our case far forward. My superiors are still skeptical, but with the intel we’ve gathered and Mount Condorcet’s flushing, we’ve been given the go-ahead.”
“Go-ahead for what, sir?”
“The Guard is ready to report all we’ve obtained on the threat to Parliament,” said Gennet. “HC needs its authorization to build defenses further and prep for combat operations. A joint war readiness committee has been established. I received word this morning: we’ve been summoned to present to them all our findings.”
“We are meeting with them? You and I?”
“I have last-minute data to compile and briefings with others ordered to testify, Lieutenant Commander. After that, you and I will head over to the Parliament Pavilion.”
Dharmen sat frozen. He had spent his entire career either appreciating his government or disapproving of it but always defending it. Now he would meet with it face-to-face.
“Tate, this is the moment we’ve been waiting for. Don’t go mute on me now.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t quite know what I’ll I say. That I haven’t said already.”
“You’re prepared, soldier. Don’t think otherwise. Of everyone involved in this, you are beyond ready. The hearing is in two days. We’ll meet again tomorrow to prepare. After that, you’re on.”
Dharmen deadened his face to hide his fright.
“Any questions before then, Lieutenant Commander?”
“Not as of yet, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
Gennet’s calm gave Dharmen slight comfort as he gingerly rose, saluted, and hobbled out of the office. He moved slowly down the corridor, ignoring the looks from every face he passed. Bemin and now Mount Condorcet had made him top celebrity on base, and it was great to be recognized for once for his own ability and not for being Nüren Tate’s son. But right now, the future displanted all else in his thoughts. My Lord Krone, you have our troubles lined up and waiting, don’t you?
14
DISHONOR
Magnificent!
Sir?
The scene, Rem-E: The government buildings, the monuments, the crowds rushing to and from it all. No entertainment centers or markets or mood walks for the Netherworld of it, just loads of forced perfection dipped in grandeur. Utopia, and it’s not for everyone. No wonder so many people here want something, anything different.
Sir, the pilot is cycling to retros. We will land in Daehira Square in ten seconds.
Right in front of the Capitol. Think they’re ready for me, Rem-E?
Are you ready for them, sir?
Dharmen and General Gennet were guided down corridor after long, lofty corridor: formal conduits through architecture that proclaimed, “This place is important; make no mistake of it.” Stares followed the pair. Their militarily composed unsmiling faces peered back, with movements matching their stony expressions. Quick, thudding boot falls announced every step beneath prim service dress uniforms and presence-expanding cloaks. It was a countershow of force, however unintentional.
Dharmen had prepared to be a spectacle when the gunship rounded the Rijksfontein and joined the civilian air traffic up the Kraal Midway. He prepared more when the war-battered conveyance touched down in the Daehiraplein and stopped the entire square in its tracks. The Guardsmen had created anxiety upon arrival; now it was their turn to be anxious.
“This isn’t the way to the committee chamber. Where are we going?” Gennet demanded of the closest escort.
“You are meeting with the joint committee,” came the answer a lazy second behind the question. They halted before a set of high, burnished metal doors. The escort waxed official. “Within a full session of Parliament.”
Gennet regarded him unblinking and shot Dharmen a glance of mute surprise. Dharmen’s heart fell to the polished marblite floor. He and the general were originally intended to address the committee only; no one said anything about the full assembly! The doors slid open with a rush of air that heralded the influence within. With no more time to think, wonder, consider, or find a corner to hide in, Dharmen and Gennet entered.
The Parliament chamber was a great oval, ringed by audience galleries staring down on the austere space. Dharmen’s eyes went to them first, but eventually he had to lower them to a far more unnerving sight: the rows of high seatbacks, each framing the head of a councilor, and most of them turning with a look saying, “We are important. Make no mistake of it!”
The Guardsmen walked the center aisle beneath a bright light wash and a conversation shower ebbing like a wave rushing out to the Great Lake as they passed. The creeping silence felt to Dharmen like high flyers swooping in from the Abyssal heights to snatch away his nerve. Alerted, Rem-E instructed him to control his breathing. He obeyed. Fainting wouldn’t do here. He mindfully put one foot in front of the other as aisle-side eyes probed, constricting him as if between high, close walls.
He and Gennet left that gauntlet for a floating table slab on a dais, just beneath the presiding officer. And facing the assembly. Opposite theirs, an identical table housed at least a dozen generals and legates in service dress bearing hefty assemblages of medals donned only at official functions. Their cloaks hung on hooks hovering behind them. Dharmen was cowed as he sat. These men and women, leaders of the Guard, had summoned him. They would require (demand) his utmost cooperation. He wondered if he would have theirs.
“The committee’s added another member,” Gennet said, while holding the mute button of the tiny audio bot hovering near his face. At the committee table sat a woman at the upper levels of middle age like himself. She smiled and nodded. “At least there’s one new face I know we can trust,” he said and nodded back.
Dharmen looked closer. He knew her—well, knew of her and certainly should have. Had he been so completely nervous as to not recognize General Caevon Sajeva from his enlisted days back at the Second Order before he, Theus, and Dori were transferred to the newly created Seventh?
Session was called to order. Gennet straightened as he and his subordinate were introduced. The chamber’s parliamentarian center groaned. Dharmen wasn’t surprised that Angolin’s most patrician citizens would frown upon a Guardsman of barely intermediate rank, but he was still irritated. Feeling’s mutual, mates!
Gennet spoke. Militarily precise in tone—commanding but respectful—he started with Dharmen’s presence, outlining in detail events on Negara that had pulled him so deeply into matters that “beyond any doubt, will change Angolin forever,” as he put it. Not asked to speak even though he was ready to talk now, Dharmen sat pinned in mind-numbing reserve as Parliament and committee bombarded Gennet with quick-fire questions. From him came information on missing Guard armaments on Negara and a relay of everything he had witnessed as he and General Estes commanded forces battling the enemy, and soon, each other.
An elderly councilor questioned the veracity of Gennet’s statements and said outright that Negara had not been necessary. The first Conservative of the day, Dharmen marveled more at the man’s ignorance than at his party’s entrenched hold on government. Gennet deflected the remarks with his own sage reasoning of why Carmogen forces had come so close to Angolin and why they had to be engaged. The aged councilor backed down, either content with Gennet’s preparedness or put off by it. Dharmen hoped his own communicative ability would match the general’s if he were ever allowed to speak.
Questioning switched to events on Bemin. Gennet reported the two unsuccessful weapons smuggling attempts and, to Dharmen’s amazement, others prior to his posting that he had never been apprised of. He outlined Dharmen’s involvement in downing the second major attempt over the Abyss. Chamber chatter kindled at that as hot as Dharmen’s flushing face. General Sajeva trained eyes on him, her head angled in curiosity.
“Lieutenant Commander Tate, I commend your actions at Port”—she was far more pleasant than he expected or remembered—“but let’s go back to Negara for a moment, to the night you discovered Lieutenant Commander Armetrian and the others behind enemy lines. Tell us about that. Start from the beginning.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat and recounted everything from losing Theus in the bush to the cold swim across the Nabreac River beneath Armetrian’s badly placed shots. General Sajeva seemed thoroughly immersed in the account. She must have known most of it, but she appeared intent on having his personal narrative above hearsay.
“Mr. Tate, I understand that Negara hasn’t ended this for you, that it was only the beginning, in fact. I want to know about that first attempt on your life, the one that occurred in your home.”
Dharmen described his dinner table explosion and emphasized the likelihood of a civil servant, three Guard officers, and a renowned former Guard leader being killed had the attempt succeeded. She delved into the rest of the deadly events. He gave more: every detail of Willem’s near kidnap and of the house synth incident. He was questioned on his encounter with Kerbentha Duraan that night. The committee faces were wide-eyed at his capture of the repeat saboteur. He was glad for that: the information and improvised device extracted from that incident were real evidence supporting his own treason claims, and he was happy to report it here.
More fact-finding questions came from the committee—and then a terse, completely anticipated remark from an all-too-familiar voice: “This is all fine for the sake of trivia, but we’ve heard these accounts! They have little to do with Angolinian security or any of our purposes here.”
Sajeva and colleagues exchanged annoyed glances before looking up behind them. Dharmen didn’t bother. No need to see the speaker; the bombastic rant was clue enough. He had watched the man on the NewsMesh often. He knew it was Willem’s father. I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to open your mouth, he thought. Through the scalding tirade that followed about the mendacity and utter uselessness of Guard testimony, he felt the old councilor’s eyes disapprove of him with every word.
“But apparently, reasonable answers are beyond military capability, so if you insist on wasting this body’s time, Lieutenant Commander, do find the courtesy to prattle quickly!”
Good old Henk Hanne in the flesh! Dharmen wanted to say it aloud to the man who hadn’t just ignored Willem’s long-term relationship with him but had also not spoken once to his son in a decade. A loud rap filled the chamber.
“Order!” the presiding officer gaveled.
General Sajeva continued her query, now on to Dharmen’s captivity beneath Mount Condorcet. He relived it, “arrest” to discovery. His jaw twitched. CSD therapy hadn’t fully eased the memory for him. Rem-E intervened with a medication and subliminal white-noise cocktail.
The committee sat hushed. Seats complained beneath anxiously shifting rears as he described his beating in transit and the more brutal, near-fatal ones afterward.
A legate whose name he had forgotten leaned forward. “No offense to the esteemed councilor,” he said in reference to Henk’s outburst, “but it appears that the root of treason has been laid bare here, left to wither beneath Lothnë’s gaze. With all due respect to the assembly, I say we must proceed with great prudence in Angolin’s safety and commit ourselves to action.”
“Oh what nonsense, man! Action toward what?” Henk said, lifting his rotund, elderly bulk from his seat. “These two come here to feed you a line, and you swallow the whole boat! Our loyal citizenry is as pure as North Ranges snow, and with good reason. Why would any wish to betray the very government that has looked after them for so long? Talk of treason is as ridiculous as talk of space travel or digging up old technology that we have no use for. Our forebears—may the Pantheon keep them—sought a simpler existence after they settled these valleys, and we’ve enjoyed the fruits of their wisdom and run our realm successfully for centuries since. No one should want more than we provide, and whoever spreads the absurd notion that the Carmogen Empire has the faintest ill intent toward us only seeks to stir misplaced passions and sow discontent. We overreacted in dispatching forces to Negara, which I warned the assembly against from the beginning. Let us not continue to overstep reason by blindly accepting as unvetted truth the hysterical wares peddled to us by every uniformed bounder and ingrate who comes to us bearing lies as boldly as they bear gunships and weapons!”
Dharmen and Gennet locked bristling eyes. Gennet turned to his audio bot. “Madam Speaker, permission to address the assembly?” Request granted, he looked upward. “Councilor, I have been in military service nearly as long as you have been in government, and never in my time has anyone accused me of hustling information. Lieutenant Commander Tate and I have done nothing to deserve your insults, and I daresay your disrespect undermines the honor demanded of us by the gods, the Realm we serve, and this body.”
“I call things as I see them, General. Take what insult you will.” The corpulent old Conservative’s backers chuckled around him. “And if a few mindless pranks against your officer are what constitute evidence of treason in your field, then I suggest you save the matter for the conurb courts and leave your Parliament to its rightful business!”
Dharmen could hardly see through the haze of his anger. He didn’t request permission to speak. “Councilor, sir! Your rightful business is the protection of your constituents, and whether you understand it or not, so is ours.”
Henk’s wild-eyed glare threatened more than anything Dharmen had experienced from his worst enemies. Neither Armetrian nor Vara could have matched it. He stared back unintimidated.
“You claim protection too easily, Lieutenant Commander,” Henk berated. “Were you in full protective mode at the Bemin Spaceport on the evening of 26 Kronaas, when three weapons-packed ships were stolen? Those ships were taken under your command, Mr. Tate. Perhaps then, as now, you were in too great an insolent huff to see your own failure.”
“Those ships were already airborne when discovered, Councilor. What was my officer to do, jump up and snag one with his bare teeth?” Gennet interjected across the verbal pounding Dharmen was ready to salvo back.
“I say, why on Tentim not? He more than exhibits the mouth for it!”
Dharmen shot up so hard, his chair sailed backward. “Councilor, you’re fortunate to hold position high enough to freely abuse those charged with your safekeeping. But since I’m made to fight abroad and at home, I’ll speak for Angolin’s security rather than for its continued stagnation beneath Conservative rule!”
“I object to this, wholeheartedly!” Henk bellowed, his jowly cheeks quivering as he rose again, peering around to his supporters.
“Sustained!” returned the presiding officer. “And be seated at once. Both of you!”
They complied. A hateful smile formed on Henk’s lips. “Madam Speaker,” he began, “the lieutenant commander is quite out of line. Perhaps his case is not as airtight as he presents it.”
“It is you who has been out of line from the beginning, Councilor,” said the presiding officer. “I urge you to remain quiet and composed as the lieutenant commander continues his testimony, provided the assembly can remember it over your antics.”
Dharmen blinked in astonishment despite his knowledge of Parliament’s reputation for bare-knuckled verbal brawling. “Thank you, Madam Speaker,” he continued, peeved and barely noticing Gennet’s cautionary look. “Esteemed representatives of Angolin, can you not see what’s happening all around you? The threat’s already out there with the Carmogen, but an even greater one exists right here. Look on your streets, in your conurbs, and on the NewsMesh. Look at your youth—they protest against you every day now.”
Words from the assembly—supportive and otherwise—pelted him.
“And most threatening of all is some of our own soldiers who plot on the battlefield, steal weapons, and gather secrets from all over Angolin—from the Space Commission, the Protection and Defense Program, the Ministry of Science”—he squared eyes on Henk—“and possibly from members of your own assembly.”
That reignited the chamber. He heard Gennet’s pained sigh but didn’t care. He was tired of accusations and evasions, and tired of having his and the general’s reports discounted by those with the greatest power to wield but the least ability to listen. So many representatives, so many deaf ears to navigate. The assembly was again gaveled to silence.
